


Casa Mea*

by Fen_Assan



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Children, Drinking, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Family, Feelings, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn, Swearing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan
Summary: Can a grown man be an orphan? Perhaps. If he is as lonely as an old castle. If he is as ruined, as misplaced. Or perhaps, there is the right place for him after all? Perhaps… this is it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This fic is completely unplanned, its first chapter just happened in the last couple of days after watching the show's second season and reading some awesome fanfic I'll link to later when I remember how to link on ao3 haha. A fair warning: I haven't written in a long time, and this hasn't been as properly edited as I would have liked. Also, the chapters are going to be ridiculously short, but that's the only way it is currently manageable for me.  
> I jumped into this fandom unexpectedly but I'm really enjoying it already, hope you will, too! 
> 
> * Casa Mea - My Home (Romanian)

“What do you mean you are giving me your estate?” Alucard turned, long arms crossed over his chest, one impeccable eyebrow arched in suspicion, although probably invisible to his interlocutor behind his long hair. He shifted his stance almost without intent. Almost. Belmont did not seem to notice, an oaf. The dark-haired, perpetually unshaven-looking man - Alucard had never seen him take a blade to his face during their travels together, yet there was never a proper beard, just the same scruffy look - shrugged his shoulders. 

“Just that. It would be a shame if all of my ancestral treasures were pillaged or destroyed - same as yours. And you can protect it all. Make something better of this place.” The last son of Belmonts stared at him with one of his usual don't-give-a-fuck expressions, but some of the feeling towards the place and its continued existence had crept into his features, softening them around his eyes even as he made his mouth a hard line. Alucard sighed in understanding, but the other man did not necessarily need to know he not only shared the same worries, but was pleased, even strangely flattered by this extravagant gift. He looked away to make sure his reaction remained hidden. 

They were standing in a small grove which only a few paces away gave way to a thriving forest rich in oaks, elms and ashes… _Hmm, the whole estate is now quite full of ashes indeed, _he half-smiled bitterly, half-cringed to himself. There were poppies swaying among the lush grasses, their milky-white petals near transparent. His mother loved those. Had loved. Alucard's upper lip twisted up in an inaudible snarl and his nails bit his palms at having to be reminded to refer to her in the past tense. She had often collected red poppies on the meadows surrounding their cottage near Targoviste - to think! they used to live just like ordinary people. For a while. The poppies were of course for medicinal use, their analgesic properties indispensable for a doctor that Lisa of Lupus had been. Or rather Lisa Ţepeş. Lisa of Lupu had not yet been that medic she had become under Dracula's tutelage. It was peculiar how it felt easier to call him Dracula now rather than Father. Then again, patricide had to have that effect on people. He shrugged to the sticky, heavy ball of spider webs that were his current thoughts and feelings, and turned back to face his travelling companion and fellow killer of his father.__

__“So you are saying you want someone else to actually do the job - and there is quite a bit of work to be done here if I might add - while you go on drinking and gallivanting your ass off?” Belmont's face split in a ready cheeky grin._ _

__“Exactly.” Alucard felt the corner of his own mouth pull up in a smirk. How could a man so ridiculous also be so brave, so skilled as a warrior, so selfless? Or was he? _Yes,_ Alucard thought, _yes, he was_. He had put himself between Sypha and Father - the most powerful vampire, the most powerful _being_ , even knowing his blows would not even itch Dracula. Alucard sighed, feeling a frown replace his earlier attempt at a smirk. “Hey,” Belmont called out, as if from afar. Alucard nodded at him absently, as if in confirmation of the unuttered inquiry if he was alright. He was not, of course. _ _

__“Don't worry,” he lifted his gaze from the grasses to face the now former owner of the grounds they stood on, “I'll take care of your home. You'll have somewhere to return to, should you wish.” The last statement shocked his companion, if his mouth - framed by that undignified attempt at a beard - being agape was any indication._ _

__“I… really?”_ _

__“Oh what did you expect, Belmont, you are giving me the place after all. I am not some ungrateful little… brat.”_ _

__“Little shit.” Belmont's face split in a grin, crinkling the skin around his eyes, making him look younger than he was - maybe a bit of that twelve-year-old who had been left to fend for himself? “You wanted to say “little shit”, didn't you?” He was still grinning. Amazing how much such a tiny naughty thing as a crass word - not even truly a curse - could improve this Monster Hunter's mood._ _

__“Yeah, fuck you,” he smirked despite himself._ _

__“Fuck you, Alucard.” Another broad grin._ _

__“So,” Alucard paused, “you expect to be consulted on the ways I restore Belmont Estate?”_ _

__“What? No. I really don't care if you pick yellow or green curtains,” Belmont scoffed, bent down to tear a long, sharp blade of grass and stick it in his mouth. Hmm. So punchable. So… what? Something flickered in his mind that gave Alucard a pause, but he dismissed the thought as a meaningless figment of his ailing imagination. He was too struck with his guilt, his grief, his grimness to think anything of the way Belmont twirled his tongue to move the blade of grass from one corner of his mouth to the other. The movement was in no way intentionally sensual and yet, for a fleeting moment, it looked just so. So… back to punchable, yes._ _

__“Ah. I _would_ tell you everything about the palettes I intend to choose for the accoutrements, but I lack the time to help you find your way around _your_ family library to look the word up. Both words, probably.” Alucard raised one eyebrow just a fraction in addition to a tiny pull of the corners of his mouth in a finely executed contemptuous barely-smile. Belmont stopped chewing the grass for a moment, noticed how the tip of the blade had fallen flaccidly as it wilted, and spat it out. Then smiled broadly, sporting a green spot on his front teeth. _ _

__“No problem whatsoever,” he raised his arms as if in a peace offering just as he bowed slightly, “I'll ask Sypha to help me out. And maybe look up a “daft twat” while we're at it.” Alucard could not help spurting out an undignified giggle._ _

__“God, but the two of you _are_ but two teenage boys who enjoy nothing more than insulting each other and comparing the sizes of their manhoods.” Sypha appeared among the trees, her fists tucked to her hips in a school mistress’ most used pose - but with a happy smile on her lips and sincere endearment in her eyes. To Alucard's and Belmont's blurts of indignation following her remark she lifted her palms, her right arm a little lower due to the still unhealed wound from Father's claws. “Alright alright, calm yourselves. I only meant it figuratively. But you really are the happiest I've seen either of you when throwing jabs at each other.” The men exchanged looks and shrugged noncommittally, causing Sypha to laugh and shake her head. She approached and put a hand on each man's arm._ _

__“Are you ready to leave?” she asked Belmont with a warm smile._ _

__“Just about,” he nodded, suddenly looking if only slightly apprehensive as he rubbed the back of his neck and peered from under his lifted elbow._ _

__“Are you sure you're going to be alright?” she enquired of Alucard in an even warmer manner, squeezing his shoulder just enough to mean they would stay for a while if he still needed them there. He shook his head, realised he was doing that in response to his own thoughts instead of her words, and nodded._ _

__“I mean yes. Of course. Safe travels.” She sucked in her lips in a brief expression of pity, tried to hide it by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and finally gave a nervous little laugh._ _

__“Oh I'm hoping for one could say the opposite! I'm looking forward to adventures!” Her big bright eyes shone with excitement, and she nearly jumped in place with it like a little girl. Belmont's face was fit to be placed in the dictionary as the definition of skeptical. He cleared his throat._ _

__“Right!” He swung his arm down low to pick up a few more blades of grass, but these he just held in his palm for a moment before looking at them as if only just realising he had torn them, and tossed them away. “Adventures!” He struck a hero's pose, standing tall. “Here we come.” He almost sounded sincere - but for Alucard's half-vampire senses. He found it odd Belmont was less kin on adventuring with Sypha than she was - they seemed to have developed an easy friendship. But he would gain nothing contemplating the relationship between those two, or wondering about their motives, so he stopped._ _

__He did wish them to be safe though as he watched them turn and leave, taking the overgrown path through the trees. Sypha seemed to expect him to join them as they boarded their covered wagon, but to her look Alucard only lifted his hand and gave an almost wave. Belmont turned a few paces later - just enough to have to start yelling instead of speaking civilly._ _

__“Hey Alucard, what are you going to call your new home?” The question took him by surprise._ _

__“I don't know. I have to start thinking of it as a home first, I suppose. Besides, the castle has had its name for centuries…”_ _

__“Well, there is a “casa” in Castlevania,” Belmont beamed, and Alucard brought his hand to his closing eyes as he groaned. How long had he been waiting for the opportunity to say that? “But Belmontania has a nice ring to it.” It was Sypha's turn to roll her eyes and give Alucard an apologetic look of a mother of a nagging child as she nearly dragged the excited Belmont away while he kept shouting his suggestions._ _

__“Trevoria?”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm focusing on Alucard for a while, but worry not - Trevor will be back soon! In the meantime, if ruminations and handsome brooding are your thing - look no further haha. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think!

Even though their lives’ work had been hunting down and eliminating creatures much like himself, Alucard could not help admiring the manor the Belmont clan had built. 

Castlevania landing atop the remains of its former glory had largely turned the ruins into wreckage. And yet, the Hold preserved underneath it all, a graceful archway leading into a nonexistent hall, staircases spiralling up to their end in mid-air, and a solitary, half-destroyed tower which kept standing as if out of sheer Belmont stubbornness, were beautiful. They spoke to Alucard of their creators’ understanding of architecture, of elegance and proportions - in some cases of appalling taste in furnishings - but mostly of the fact that this had not been just a manor house, it had been a home. Miraculously, there was some warmth in it still, although Alucard could not pinpoint where he felt it from - the large pompous family portraits were not its source, neither was the annoyingly ever present Belmont crest. It had to be the little things then. Most of all, that old, dog-eared book left on the sill of a large window, the kind his mother had loved most in Castlevania. Cut out in the thickest wall, with a few quilts and pillows thrown on the stone sill, they became cosy nooks perfect for reading. Mother had created a couple of such nests around the castle, where she would spend most of her time outside Father's study, their bedroom, and the nursery. Ah, the nursery. 

Upon the departure of his travelling and battling companions, Alucard had spent days simply walking around the old castle. He had visited the rooms once most prominent in his parents’ and his own life, revisiting the memories, catching glimpses of the apparitions. Father, imperially descending the wide expanse of the central staircase. Mother, smiling goodnight at him as she brushed her fingers through his hair and gently taking away the book he had stashed under his pillow. Himself, as a young boy, running around as only children can: without a care in the world, or regard for the danger of falling, with an open heart, even as the eyes remained closed behind his palms. A held breath. A burst of laughter. She had found him. She always had. Hide and seek was a tremendous game to be played in Castlevania. And little Adrian had been good at hiding. Yet, Mother had sought him out every single time. 

Alucard sighed - and smiled, almost despite his broody self. His feet were taking him to the nursery again. This time he was firm in his decision not to wallow in self-pity and justify it by calling it grief. He would make a point of ignoring the burnt floorboards in the middle of the room (he had gathered enough composure to throw away the ruined carpet a few days past) and the missing bedpost-turned-stake his own hands had pushed through his father's heart. His right hand reached for the inside pocket of his coat only to realise he had taken the garment off and left it somewhere about the place. Finding it again would be a quest in its own right. There were of course his clothes aplenty stored in the castle, but he was partial to that particular coat - especially now that it held a ring in one of its inside pockets. The simple thin band of gold was Father's wedding ring. When Alucard had first picked it up after the fight, the piece of metal being all that remained of his father, he wondered where his mother's ended up. And how such love and loyalty could bring about such disastrous consequences.

He would not weep in the nursery again. Instead, he would find one of his favourite childhood books: a tome too large for little hands - his strength even as a child had compensated for that predicament - but meant as the first miraculous journey into astronomy for young minds. He used to love the intricate detail in the drawings of planets, and maps of the night skies with their constellations - each its own unique shape, name, and story - and the texts around them - literally around so you had to turn the whole book or put it down and walk in a circle to be able to read the snaking words written out in elegant calligraphy. He had loved that book even more than his other favourite - the series of volumes on myths and legends of the world. 

It took some time and some careful lifting and turning of his childhood possessions - he was loath to upend that strangely preserved state of being lived in which the room still possessed - to locate his prize. It had been worth it. Alucard - no, it was Adrian now - sat on the floor, leaning his back on the side of his small bed - had he really been that little? - and gently blew on the carved leather cover, polishing the remaining dust out with the sleeve of his shirt. He normally preferred to keep himself orderly, dressing not only neatly, but in clothes of a perfect fit and stark elegance. But all that was of little importance in case of a physical piece of his childhood, the happiest of times, lying on his lap, looking smaller now but no less grand. He smiled warmly at the soft creaking of the leather binding upon opening the tome on a random page. Yes, he sighed - unbelievably, the wonder and awe were still there. He would take it with him and make it the first object to inhabit the reading nook he would recreate. And that would be his first real act of restoration as the the Castle's and Estate's guardian. Despite risking to feel way beyond nostalgic and right into sentimental, he would also fetch one of Mother's quilts. 

Just as he stood up, absentmindedly brushing the rubble off his trousers with one hand, the other clutching the book protectively, a soft paw peering from a basket underneath the bed caught his eye. He knelt to pull the toy dog out, the book transferred into a tight grip between his ribs and elbow. Good old pup. Another reminder of the times well passed and near forgotten, when for a while his parents had been just that: a happy, bright-eyed, loving couple blessed with the miracle of a child. They had painted and furnished this most comfortable, safe and cosy nursery; picked the most wondrous books, and made the most lovable toys - all by themselves. Alucard - with a trace of Adrian still in there - sighed, shaking the plush toy in his hand so the dog's paws moved as if running and the tongue sticking out of its mouth lolled. 

“Maybe I should get a dog,” he wondered aloud, “a guard dog isn't a crazy idea for such a place,” he addressed the toy pup. “No, you’re right. It would be too much like getting a familiar. Or even worse.” The rest of the thought he dared not speak aloud, even with the old books and toys his only witnesses: getting a dog would be a pathetic attempt at looking for affection which failed to come from Father, not beyond his early childhood anyway, from a dog. “A cat then,” he chuckled, placing his furry childhood friend gently on the bed. “Cats don't care one way or another, but could be of use with those rats.” He had noticed a number of rodents creeping about near the Hold. There were of course other ways of ridding the place of them entirely, but he did not feel like playing with poisons for the moment. A cat. Or a few - rats near rare books were a very bad idea. 

Alucard picked up the pace past the nursery threshold, feeling simultaneously heavier and a little lighter for having visited it again. 

The decision to start small was very Alucard-like in the sense of being in direct opposition to his father's grandiose plans. But arranging a reading nook, which he surmised might even make him feel a little like home again, gave him purpose, albeit a selfish one. At least it was turning his thoughts away from simply leaving it all as was and falling into indifferent, painless slumber. 

The sleeves of his white shirt rolled up for convenience, Alucard was gathering larger pieces of rubble from across one of the halls and its adjusting corridor by hand. He could of course have done it through telekinesis and save time, but he found that physical exertion agreed with him. His superhuman strength and stamina meant he was hardly breaking a sweat, yet it made the process of actually doing something way more tangible. The corridor in question was situated in a round tower boasting the two-meter thick walls. Needless to say, the windows there were a perfect fit. He was clearing the hall first so he would not be forced to walk through the scene of ruthless destruction the room had endured, every time he headed towards his reading spot. 

Realising he had amassed quite a pile of rubble, he smirked: the options for disposing of it were numerous, but he settled on the good old tossing it all out of the window - after all, a large and imposing one was right there waiting to be used. Not yet for reading, but well, one had to start somewhere. He unlatched the double frames and pushed them open, letting the chilly early-evening air in. He shook his hair away from his face, wondering if it was prudent to tie it up and out of the way, but ended up shrugging his shoulders and heading for the largest bits of debris to send flying down. 

Just as he disposed of a once-elegant divan broken neatly into two useless parts and waited for the satisfying crunch and crash as it landed below, his ear picked something up. A human scream: not a shriek of terror, not a yell of rage, but a steady bawl of a being in distress and just about to give up hope of deliverance. Alucard did not ponder on whether the reason for his swift action was the fact it was clearly a child's voice, but he did take an infinitesimal pause to consider the most appropriate means of movement. The screaming was coming from a ways into the forest, from the direction where it opened up onto a cliff overlooking the ravine. Travelling in lightning bursts was the fastest but trickier to navigate the forest in the owl-light. 

In the blink of an eye Alucard was up on the window sill, pale gold hair flying about his face from the speed of the motion rather than the breeze. A held breath. In place of a tall slender man, a cloud of black erupted from the window. It felt as aberrant and as intrinsic as ever: all the joints of a human hand were there in each velvety wing, allowing for incredible control in flight. True, there was more work in operating as a whole colony of bats rather than one dhampir, but the degree of precision was worth it. Besides, he still felt it was himself - even split into dozens of furry little masters of flight. He - they - rushed through the forest, flapping their wings every which way to easily manoeuvre around any obstacle. Shapeshifting into bats felt entirely different from that into a wolf. It did something to him he, with all his knowledge and all eloquence, found hard to explain - or even describe. He almost regretted how short the flight was, almost mourned the loss of that essence, that presence of someone - something - else beside himself when he turned. The ragged cloud of bats converged into a smooth black mass which in turn collapsed in on itself, bringing Alucard in his half-vampire form back. He stepped onto the ground hurriedly, catching his breath as if after a frenzied run, and thrust himself towards the edge of the precipice in one lightning fast leap. 

The boy was hanging so unlike they tell in the stories: there was no one hand grasping the rock while he looked down in horror, futilely scraping with his feet for the elusive purchase on the crumbling rock face. In fact, he was red in the face with the blood swelling under pale skin not from screaming but from his unfortunate situation of being head down, his leg snagged in the long gnarly roots of a nearby tree, his arms waving aimlessly as the sense of self preservation was starting to give way to uncontrolled panic. Alucard was glad the boy was not facing him directly so would probably not see well in the dusk - and under the circumstances. He made a show of stepping on a branch and crunching small stones under his boots to make himself known. 

“Hold still,” he called out, “I'll pull you up.” 

“Doamne*, please! Please, Domnule*!” The child truly feared for his life, pleading intermittently to God and to man, oblivious and uncaring of who stood before him - and how much that person despised any mention of God… It was not this boy's fault though. Alucard grabbed him by the ankles, making sure to grunt as would be thought appropriate for the effort he was not in fact making, and pulled him up, careful not to scrape the little body against the rocks. The boy must have been what… seven years old? What was he even doing at this place and this hour, alone? Alucard took a moment to heighten his senses and become aware of the surroundings, making sure that they were indeed alone. 

“Are you alright?” he asked calmly as the child stared at him with huge saucer-like eyes, roaming frantically from the muted gold of his hair to the obviously extravagantly expensive leather boots fitted with gold buckles, to his now barely white shirt decorated with smudges and holes. The boy blinked, failing to shut his mouth hanging open with incredulity. When he finally got hold of himself a moment later, assisted by sniffling and brushing his nose with his sleeve, he sat more comfortably and nodded. Then nodded again, several times in quick succession, as if finally realising what had just happened. 

“Oh thank you, Domnule, thank you so much! I’d be all dead now if you didn’t save me.” He scrambled to his feet, his hands going up to his head and then searching for something on his body as he patted his apparently numerous pockets. He did not look like he had any money to offer his savior, so what…? Ah… he was trying to find the cap he could take off and clasp in his hands as a sign of respect. Alucard gave him a little smile.

“You are welcome.” On an impulse, he continued, although he could well have left the child alone having pointed him in the direction out of and away from the Estate. “What is your name, băiete*?”

“Mihai.” This time instead of following his answer with the appropriate honorific, the boy asked, “And yours?” and tried smoothing his dishevelled hair - unsuccessfully. To his own surprise, Alucard smiled again. The boy was very well-brought-up for a village child who he undoubtedly was - and yet Alucard did not expect him to enquire about his saviour's identity. 

“My name is Adrian.” That felt… natural. “What were you doing here, Mihai? Did you get lost in the woods?” To his credit, the boy told the truth, shaking his head no. 

“I…” he stumbled, as if uncertain how much he should say, twiddled with the large button on his worn but well-sewn trousers - unusual for a villager as most had their pants simply tied together, and apparently decided to spill it for what it was worth. He nodded to himself. “I came to see the castle.” To Alucard's - Adrian's - raised eyebrow Mihai threw his arms akimbo and gave him the “Oh come on!” look. “You know! Everybody's been talking about it for weeks in all three villages.” Alucard recalled there were indeed three villages of approximately the same modest size nearby. They were not in too close proximity to the estate or to each other, but there obviously existed a neighbourly relationship, which - of course - included exchanging gossip. 

“And what do they say?” Mihai pressed his lips together defiantly, but seemingly not in response to the question itself. 

“They say it's a vampire lord's castle.” He looked down at his shuffling through the twigs feet. 

“And your parents just let you go? Will they not worry about you?” 

“I'm nine,” the boy stated proudly, as if it explained or justified anything at all. Well, it did - in a way. “I’m not a scaredy-cat, and I can take care of myself. Well, usually I can. Right there I couldn't. Obviously.” His shoulders slumped in embarrassment as he pointed towards the edge of the cliff. A brave boy then. And not afraid to admit his own shortcomings.

“So... you came to see... the Vampire Lord?” A silent, determined nod. “Whatever for?”

Mihai shrugged his shoulders and stood silent for a moment, looking around them at the swiftly darkening and filling with the sounds of the night forest. 

“I wanted… no, I needed to ask him about something.” His left hand went up to tug at his hair nervously. 

“Oh?” Alucard expected the explanation to follow, but this time Mihai stuck his chin out. 

“That would be between me and him.” He scratched the back of his head, fingers treading through his hair. There was something of a story there, which ignited Alucard's interest, and it was not like he had a lot of better things to do…

“So, do you still want to see the castle?” The boy's eyes widened and his mouth formed a silent “o”. 

“You can show it to me? Wait, are you?.. Can you be domnul strigoi?” His expression of shock gave way to terror, then curiosity, embarrassment, terror again, and stabilised at hope - which Alucard found peculiar and intriguing. What did the boy have to ask Dracula that was so important for him he would take such great risks solely for the answer?

“No.” _Not exactly,_ thought Alucard. “I am the Guardian.” 

“Of what?” It was Alucard's turn to shrug his shoulders and look around.

“Of everything here. Of the old estate. I was granted the responsibility to restore it. So although it is, in a sense, all mine, I serve as but a humble warden and caretaker.” Mihai's eyebrows furrowed skeptically as he eyed Alucard's muscled torso visible through the torn shirt, his still perfectly looking hair...

“And is there…”

“No,” Alucard raised his hand with the palm facing the boy. The authority in his voice stopped him in his tracks as if by a spell. “There is no Vampire Lord. He is dead.” Mihai openly gaped at Adrian. “I killed him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doamne - God  
> domnul - lord, sir  
> domnule - vocative for "lord, sir" (when addressing a person)  
> băiete - boy 
> 
> (All Romanian)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! A new chapter is finally here, and I'm finally at my computer instead of the phone so I can link to all the wonderful people! First, as I mentioned before, this fic (the fact that I started writing it at all) was inspired by the amazing work of my dear friends and awesome writers - [RedHawkeRevolver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257520/chapters/40582721) and [WaywardLass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100546/chapters/32488572) Check them out if you haven't yet - you won't regret it!  
> And a very special mention with a huge thanks goes to the wonderful [KenrakenOkwaho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho) who kindly agreed to be my expert on all things Romanian to help me make the work more authentic. Thank you! <3  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter - let me know what you think!

“So there _was_ a vampire lord!” Mihai stamped his feet and clenched his fists in frustration. The boy quickly became flustered at his own childish reaction, and pressed his lips together, avoiding eye contact for a moment, collecting himself. Alucard was more and more curious about what troubled the boy, but he opted for silent waiting not to scare him off. Mihai sighed deeply, his face scrunching up in defeat as if he was ready to cry, but fought it with all his will - and won. “I was too late then,” he shrugged, sighed again, and kicked at the small stones underfoot. Alucard's eyebrows furrowed with part sympathy part annoyance.

“You do not wish to see the castle then?”

“Of course I do!” the boy returned indignantly. Alucard heard him follow as he turned around without another word. After a few steady steps Alucard heard Mihai's pace - as well as his heartbeat - quicken as he appeared in front of the man, trying to walk ahead backwards, face lit up with new excitement. 

“Wait, if you killed him, you must be a vampire hunter yourself, right, Guardian?”

“Mhm, one could say so, I guess,” Alucard muttered, but Mihai appeared to have excellent hearing. 

“Then maybe _you_ can help me!” _Ah, here we go._

“Tell me how, and I shall see if it is within my power.”

“Castle first.” Mihai's mood was improving significantly judging by a cheeky grin on his grubby face. 

Alucard had no intention of offering a tour throughout the estate, but that was completely unnecessary as Mihai's jaw dropped in astonishment and wonder at the sight of the Castlevania entry hall alone. This place really did have a presence even without its creator in it: the reaction of a newcomer reminded Alucard that the castle was a being in its own right and as such was worth preserving. 

Mihai stood at one spot and slowly turned around, taking in the heavy candelabra hanging from an imposingly high ceiling, the wide expanse of the grand staircase - now only partially carpeted but no less impressive, the paintings in dark palettes and golden frames adorning the walls - and a pile of trash and rubble awaiting clearing. It was peculiar how Alucard felt proud at showing off what used to be Castlevania but currently had no name still. The boy turned at the sound of Alucard clearing his throat. He gave the man an appraising look now that he could see much better in the light of numerous candles. 

“You live alone in this place?” _How did he…? Why would he even think that? Was the boy not someone stuck on the estate grounds by mistake but sent here on purpose?”_

“I do not see how it is any of your business, tinere stăpân*.” Unfazed by the coldly voiced reprimand, the boy continued, chin stuck out. 

“You should see my sister. She'll fix you right up.”

“Oh.” Alucard crossed his arms over his chest: his annoyance was pushing him towards bringing the audience to a close. It did not matter if the boy was disgustingly whoring his sister out or sincerely trying to marry her off - neither was of any interest to Alucard. 

“She's the best smistress in the commune. Well, at least in two of the three villages.” Alucard rubbed at his eyes, composing himself. Humans could truly be detestable if such a young child was going around offering his sister's intimate services. 

“I am certainly not interested in your sister - or whatever she has to offer,” he uttered icily, and started towards the boy with the intention of grabbing him by the collar and throwing him out - before he became too angry and did something much worse. Mihai did look scared for a moment as Alucard's emotion was apparently obvious on his face, but he set off running not to escape completely but to stand behind a large sofa putting it between them, thinking - how naively - that such a small obstacle would stop Alucard. 

“I'm sorry, domnule Adrian. I should have known you are so sensitive about your garb. But this shirt really is ruined, and with all the work you're doing here - I can see that's a lot of work,” he pointed to the rubble and to the impressive hole in one of the walls, “you definitely need new clothes. Maybe not as fancy. Something more practical? My sister can do both. She really is very good.” Alucard stopped, hands gripping the sensuously carved back of the sofa.

“What are you talking ab…” He suddenly bent at the waist as if punched in the stomach, walked around to fall on the sofa, and burst out laughing. “Your sister is a seamstress, isn't she?” Mihai looked at his host as if he was not in his right mind.

“That’s what I said,” he confirmed cautiously, widening the distance between himself and a gold-haired pale stranger who kept teetering between saving and attacking him. Alucard caught his breath through the nervous laughter - it was in fact a bit of a breakdown, he realised. 

“Huh. Good. I might indeed need some new shirts.” The castle stored his clothes aplenty, but Alucard felt like it could be a symbolic new beginning - and he was now curious to meet Mihai's sister since her brother was not afraid to advertise her services even in time of likely grave danger. “I'll see her - unless she's afraid to come to the castle. I have no time wandering around villages seeing _seamstresses_.”

“She'll come,” Mihai spit out eagerly, gripping the back of an armchair, “she's not a scaredy-cat neither. But I'll come with her. For protection.” 

“Mh. How old is she?”

“Fifteen. But she's a girl,” he shrugged, “girls need protection.” _No, not all girls at least,_ Alucard thought, _but you might not need to hurry to learn that yet.”_

“Agreed. You can both come.” 

“Is tomorrow alright, domnule Adrian?” The boy was so eager they had to be desperate to get some work. The family had probably fallen on hard times - just like so many. 

“Tell her she can have some advance payment - if she brings me a sample of her craft which satisfies my expectations.” As soon as he uttered it, he feared his condition to be too demanding for a village seamstress, but Mihai nodded readily. Alucard felt he really wanted to help these people. Do this little thing - what were a few coins to him after all? 

“She has samples. Thank you, domnule Adrian. I'll be honest with you, she's only starting her own trade - but she really is very good. She sewed these pants!” He ran from behind the armchair to show off his mucky garb, taking special pride in the big button which seemed to be made of cattle horn. _Livestock,_ the image of his Father suddenly burned through his memory: enraged, alone, and helpless despite all his might - as nothing he did, no number of humans he murdered could bring his Lisa back. Alucard shook his head and stood up. 

“Very good. I'll show you out.” Mihai's expression looked a battle between pleasure from securing a deal for his sister and insecurity about… everything else probably. 

“Um, it's really late, domnule Adrian. Look: it's completely dark outside and no moon tonight - we wouldn't see a thing.” He pointed at one of the large unshuttered windows. It was uncanny how peasants knew a lot about the moon - so much in common with vampires… 

“What are you implying, young Mihai?” The boy's confusion betrayed his lack of familiarity with the word. “What are you trying to say?” Alucard explained patiently - surprising himself - like a benevolent teacher. 

“Can't I stay here? It's an awful big place, there must be stables or a barn or something where I can sleep. I don't need more than some hay.” 

“Won't your parents - and your sister - be worried if you do not return home? Or is the fact that you are nine sufficient in this matter?” The sarcasm slipped in as if of its own accord. 

“Nah. They think I'm with aunt Ioana in Vad* today.” He did have the decency to blush slightly. 

“I see. And of course your aunt never saw - and never even expected you today.” Mihai shrugged with a part sheepish - part proud smile. 

“All right then. I'll find you a place. And to repay for my hospitality you can assist me in the restoration tomorrow.” The boy's face lit up with excitement. 

“Oh yes, whatever you need!” 

_Apparently, I have the need of other people - and of spending some of Father's riches,_ Alucard chuckled to himself, no less surprised at the turn of events then his unexpected guest. 

Instead of the requested stables, Alucard set Mihai up in a small, modest - by Castlevania standards - room in the corridor just off the entry hall. To the boy used to the simple accommodations of his family's cottage with whitewashed walls, reed-covered roof, and likely just a hanging rug separating different spaces inside, this place seemed regal - if one was to judge by his mouth hanging open in awe at getting to sleep in a carpeted room with thick blankets on the bed, and an armchair by a small hearth. They stoked up the fire together before Alucard retreated with the instructions uttered as a warning - of not venturing anywhere beyond the room. Mihai's eager nod was of course not an indication he would stay inside. An hour or so later Alucard heard him creep out of the room, tiptoe through the corridor looking at but not trying to open any doors, until he came to a bend leading to staircases both up and down. Mihai stood at the foot of the stairs while Alucard hovered behind him, unseen in the shadows he knew so well - even when the boy turned to look back before deciding to ascend. Alucard wondered at his guest’s motives, his theories ranging from burgling to searching for the vampire lord he might have believed was still there somewhere, to pure curiosity. 

Alucard felt somehow pleased the latter proved to be the case, and even more pleased that Mihai turned out to be cautious enough - if not obedient - to turn back after exploring a few corridors and a hall or two upstairs. The child was good at finding his way around as well - he returned to his assigned room having only taken one wrong turn, and fell asleep within minutes, leaving his host to ruminate until morning. 

*** 

A breakfast of a few slices of brânză de burduf* with some bread, onions, and pickled cucumbers awaited Mihai on a small table in the entry hall when he crept out of the room, looking nonplussed. The dangers and excitement of the previous day, along with the comfortable bed must have lulled him into a sleep that was somewhat longer than proper. The boy cleared his throat bidding his host good morning, his hand lingering over his mouth for a moment, until Alucard gave him a gracious nod. 

“Please, help yourself. I have already eaten.” That was not untrue - even if Alucard never specified when he had eaten. Or whether he had eaten or fed. 

Mihai fell on the cheese with the appetite of an ever-ravenous growing boy. It pleased Alucard he could provide his visitor with this small courtesy - Mother had taught him laws of hospitality well. On a whim rather than for sustenance - although he could and occasionally indeed ate the food of humans - he broke off half the crumbling slice of cheese, his eyes closing involuntarily at the aroma of the pine bark in which it had matured. Mother had loved brânză de burduf's peculiar smell and rich salty taste - so it should not have been that surprising for Alucard to find the pine bark cylinders sitting in the castle's stores still. Father must have had a hard time letting go of the things Lisa loved… 

“Domnule Adrian,” Mihai obviously repeated with an embarrassed cough for attention. “I'll be going then. To fetch my sister.” 

“Hmm,” Adrian nodded, still deep in thought, and suddenly realised. “Wait. You still haven't told me how I could help you. The work for your sister and yourself is not it, I believe.” The boy blushed; played with a scattering of breadcrumbs on the table, collecting them by pressing the end of a pickle over them; and threw the whole rather unappetising thing in his mouth. He then chewed the crispy pickle noisily looking Adrian in the eyes, while running his hand absentmindedly over his bright hair matted with the grime of yesterday's… being in a pickle. Alucard chuckled softly to himself, watching the boy gather courage, remembering another, grown-up boy, who would have enjoyed this silly pun. He wondered if Belmont was hunting any vampires right now. _Hmm, how did his thoughts even turn to…_

“You're a vampire hunter,” Mihai stated, “you'll help me find one.” 

“Why would I do that?” Alucard raised a curved eyebrow, squinting his eye, scrutinising the boy. Mihai slumped on the chair, lowered his head and murmured something the dhampir could in fact make out, but wanted said out loud. 

“I need a vampire's help.” It was uttered only a little louder. Mihai lifted his bright blue eyes to meet his host's gold ones, abruptly stood up, turning away and back again, pressed his lips tightly as if stifling an urge to cry, and finally spoke. “I need a vampire to uncurse me.” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Alucard was having a flashback of himself as a child, watching his dear mother rage about people's superstitions and what they led to. This reeked of accusations-and-saliva-spitting mouths and pitchforks. “Tell me,” he raised his voice in demand, regretting it instantly as the boy cowered, “please.” 

“They say I'm to become strigoi. The red hair and blue eyes are as good as a devil's curse - it's enough for something bad to happen for me to turn into vampire. I don't want that. I don't wanna hurt my family or bring famine or anything. A vampire would know how to fix that.” His last sentence was accompanied by the quivering lower lip. Alucard watched him. Studied. Him, his family and those before them, who drew the bright line of fiery hair through generations; the neighbours who made the sign of cross when the boy turned his back to them. It might have been different for Mihai, but Alucard had seen this before. He knew how it went. He blew air out through his nose loudly and slowly to calm himself. 

“But your hair is not even red, it is barely copper.” 

“Red enough for most,” Mihai shrugged. “I don't wanna become a vampire.” He tried hiding his face crumpled for a moment, but bravely stifled the sniffles. Alucard - Adrian - approached and sat next to him, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. 

“You will not. I'll take care of that.” 

*** 

Alucard spent several hours until the arranged meeting with Mihai and his sister being mostly angry. He might have even punched a wall or two - and deemed the resulting holes and cracks an improvement of decor. It did little to improve his mood though: he felt resentful of humans, both for their ignorance and the cruel treatment of their fellow beings which it often bred. He never asked, but it did not require much imagination to know what Mihai must have already endured simply due to the colour of his hair and eyes. It had been enough to seek help from an actual vampire. From a boy of nine. Alucard shook his head in indignation and fury - and sent a perfectly whole wardrobe of solid oak flying with nothing but a thought. _Who says telekinesis is not a good coping mechanism,_ Alucard snickered bitterly as the heavy piece of furniture crashed into an as-yet-unharmed wall and burst into a myriad of splinters. 

He became painfully aware that his exasperation was in equal parts the legacy of both his parents. Both had loathed ignorance - only employed very different strategies at fighting it. The worst of it was that he did not even have a plan but Alucard knew saving the boy was a task for Adrian: he would do it his mother's way. By teaching Mihai the truth of it - or maybe by arranging some nonexistent ritual to help the boy believe he was cured of “the curse”? But also by actively protecting him, he realised with a groan. What had he got himself into? Was being a Guardian of Belmont Hold and Castlevania not enough that he had to appoint himself some random human boy's guardian as well? Although their meeting had not really been random at all. Mihai had been actively searching for a vampire to help him. He just did not know it was a dhampir who would. 

That was another matter, Adrian thought as he started dragging another piece of the solid oak ensemble towards the window - by hand this time: for how long would he be able to conceal the fact he was half-vampire? Would it be enough to speak in a reserved manner and not smile too widely to hide his fangs? Oh wait, he was doing _that_ already anyway - the thought came to his mind spoken in Belmont’s voice. Alucard growled in irritation - by which right was the ridiculous drunk annoying him in his own head? Yes-yes, this estate Alucard was now warding used to be Trevor Belmont’s family’s. Trevor. Funny how he never thought of - never mind addressed the man - by his given name. Although it was in fact more impertinent that Belmont was addressing _him_ by his given name. Or the name they had come up with to describe Adrian as the opposition to his father. How pathetic really. Both that he had adopted Alucard as himself - and that he still felt vulnerable being Adrian. The latter did feel right though - even if it hurt. He suddenly stopped in his tracks realising the heavy cabinet was leaving scratch marks on the floor. Marring it was neglectful, wasteful and irresponsible, and Adrian, feeling properly remorseful, picked the cabinet up and carried it carefully downstairs - he would cut it up for wood later as there was no room for it in the new estate - he would rid his new home of all clutter. 

As Adrian was descending the side stairs only just wide enough to accommodate a single person carrying a bulky piece of furniture, hugging it in front of himself with arms wide, he came to an abrupt stop a few steps short of the landing. Two children were standing only a few paces away, gaping in shock, and holding hands despite the girl being too old for such manifestations of fear. Although both could have sincerely believed they were holding the other’s hand to protect their sibling and not to reassure themselves. Adrian cleared his throat and made the last few steps down as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. He set the cabinet with an intended grunt and a little bang, and made a show of stretching his back from the imaginary effort. 

"Good day to you,” he started, slowly unrolling his shirt sleeves, not looking at the children directly. “My mother taught me the necessity to wait for the door to open before you enter someone else’s house.” At least he did not have to wait to be invited, like his father. 

“We beg your pardon, domnule,” the girl was decent enough to blush and decorous enough to attempt a sort of a half-nod - half-awkward curtsy. “We did knock though.” Ah. There was character there as well. Good. 

"A lot,” Mihai added, his wide eyes and raised eyebrows conveying awe, scepticism, and challenge all at once. 

“So you did,” Adrian accepted with a graceful nod and locked his hands behind his back. “Welcome then. You must be Mihai’s sister - the seamstress,” he articulated the word slowly, meaningfully eyeing the boy, but the difference was apparently lost on Mihai.

“I’m Sorina*.” Another attempt at a curtsy. Ah, but wasn’t that a fitting name. The girl truly was like the sun: bright golden locks were pulled up for convenience but it was clear that when loose, her hair framed a comely, blue-eyed face quite beautifully. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Adrian inclined his head and when the girl’s face lit up in a smile, he was struck with her resemblance to his own mother: not just the hair and eyes and the very human warmth radiating from her - there was even something in the shape and sharpness of her chin. Adrian swallowed through suddenly constricted throat. Sorina seemed to be studying him in return and finally gathered the courage to ask. 

“You aren’t from around Șerpeni*, are you? Or Mândra?” 

He thought he knew where this was going and in fact, had he been a more sentimental kind - was he not already sentimental carrying his father's wedding ring and seeing his mother's features in a random blonde girl? - he would start to wonder if they could be related. The semblance was truly there, even between Sorina and himself. 

“I don't think so.” The girl looked perplexed at his strange answer but took it politely as a topic he probably preferred not to discuss. Adrian felt he wanted - oddly - to clarify, even if too little for the information to be of any consequence. “My mother was from further west.” 

“Ah,” Sorina sighed, while her brother simply stood there watching the exchange, no longer holding her hand and keeping both in his trouser pockets just in case, “I'm sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For your loss.” The kind remark made Adrian's heart pound in his chest. Who was she? How could she know? Who sent her - and should he finish it right there or wait till she tried to kill him? It was pathetic how he already felt betrayed having barely met her. He stifled his flaring anger and only gave her a seething look, deciding to test her knowledge. 

“Which loss are you referring to?” 

“You said “was” about your mother,” she shrugged innocently. “I apologise if it wasn't my place.” Sorina seemed genuinely distraught at having upset her host, and Adrian could not detect any telltale signs of lying or hiding something on her. So she was either a pure kind soul - or a worthy opponent. He shrugged: he guessed either was welcome. 

“Thank you. I mourn her still, two years later.” He surprised himself by the confession - and by how true it was. “But you wanted to ask something,” he finally gestured for them to follow him into one of the rooms still intact and furnished for leisurely talking. It was across two halls and one corridor away, but it fit their purpose best: large windows would give enough light to see the girl's handiwork she was obviously carrying in a knotted pack on her back - and for her to take his measurements for the shirts. It seemed he had already decided he would want new clothes. 

“Oh yes, I wondered if your mother had any siblings in our parts. Our mother has lots of sisters and cousins. I hope not to offend but…” she blushed, but his encouraging nod gave her the confidence to go on, “you and I - we look so alike we could be related.” Mihai stopped in his tracks and looked at each in turn as if only now noticing the common features. He himself apparently took after the paternal side of the family. 

“I am quite sure we are not,” Adrian managed a small smile, “but who knows, maybe an ancient distant relative in common indeed.” The idea burned as a strange beacon in his chest: how would it feel to have a sibling? Not a brother: the rivalry, mockery, taunting - and fun - he got enough of from Belmont. Adrian paused before taking a seat in a comfortable large armchair - that was an odd thought. But a sister? Yes, that might have been nice to have a sister. Sorina broke the tangle of his thoughts with an excited little squeak. 

“Oh my, there are so many rooms!” She clasped her hands together while Mihai rolled his eyes in a perfect picture of a world-weary know-it-all. 

“I told you,” he inserted. 

“Oh but it's different when you can see it all by yourself! There are so many…” she turned around, arms - and eyes - wide, “...things! So many windows! Which need new curtains!” She flashed a big smile, both shameless and hopeful. Mihai made a sour face at his sister and tugged at her sleeve, but she was unrelenting. “Come on, domnule Adrian, what do you say? Oh!” She turned on her heels in a flash and pulled the sack from her back. “I brought samples!” 

Her enthusiasm confounded and amused him in equal measure. Finally he laughed, partially covering his mouth with the fan of his fingers. 

“I think I do need new curtains to match those new shirts.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations from Romanian and some explanations:
> 
> domnule - vocative for "lord, sir" (when addressing a person)  
> tinere stăpân - young master  
> Vad - a village in Șercaia commune in Romania  
> brânză de burduf - traditional Transylvanian cheese  
> Sorina - female name derived from “the sun”  
> Șerpeni - earlier name of Șercaia village/commune in Romania

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. :)


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